Yesterday's reading went well, despite the dismal rainy weather. Victoria's was cozy little bookstore in very nice little downtown AH area. I read about ten minutes worth of material, the stronger pieces that don't make me cringe at how unpolished they seem. Maybe not unpolished, but young, unformed. Piling image upon image, those sentences winding forever and never ending. I like to think I have a little more snap to my poems now. A little more bite.
Suddenly, we seem to have plunged headlong into fall, the trees bursting into full color almost overnight, the park district pushing the sand into piles further up the beaches to stop them from eroding completely. Soon those orange drift fences will go up. Last week, late, they were putting lights in the trees along State Street. I have so much work to do that's taking me away from writing time it's pathetic. I do have three days off next week (a canceled weekend out of town) so I hope to knock off all the extraneous crap I have left this semester in one fell swoop, the craft seminar paper, and a review of one of Naomi Shihab Nye's books. Then I can concentate solely on the creative project.